


"Klein, huh?"

by Dansnotavampire



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Anniversary, Breakup, Drinking, M/M, Pining, Pining Kepler, This is a sad sad fic kiddos, dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dansnotavampire/pseuds/Dansnotavampire
Summary: The night it happens, Maxwell's away. You suspect that her absence is the only reason that Jacobi chooses your shoulder to cry on, but you don't really care.It doesn't matter why he chose you.





	"Klein, huh?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nancypants (cah_avengers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cah_avengers/gifts).



> Written for a dialogue prompt on tumblr, I liked it so I'm cross-posting it here

Three months before it happens, you watch through your office window as Daniel Jacobi kisses Jacob Klein softly, sweetly, gently, and you ignore the sweet cut of jealousy through your chest. You watch as they talk a little, like they do every morning before they go into their separate departments for the day. You imagine what they're saying; you can almost read their lips, but not enough to really make out their conversation. Klein puts his hand on Jacobi's arm, grips his bicep, and says something; probably an awful joke, given Jacobi's laugh. You know how this next bit goes, though. You've seen it so many times, even heard it once or twice before when they said their goodbyes closer to your office door. 

"See you tonight, I love you," Klein said, says, will say. 

"Yeah, love you too," Jacobi always replies, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his _boyfriend's_ lips. Then they part ways, Jacobi coming up to your office, Klein disappearing off to wherever he works. 

The one thing you all have in common in this situation is the hurried suppressing of your emotions before your colleagues (or subordinates, in your case) get the chance to see them on your face. 

\--- 

Two months before it happens, you and Jacobi are in a shitty hotel room together, Alana having one all to herself. Jacobi's in the bathroom, on the phone with someone. You don't try and listen in, don't try and pry. He - he deserves this, you think. Deserves happiness, deserves _love._

And Klein's better at love than you could ever be, so seeing Jacobi happy is almost enough of a balm to calm the ache in your chest when you see how soft his eyes are when he leaves the bathroom, when you hear his soft "Yes, I'm safe. I love you." 

You look up at him from where you're sat reading on the bed. "Klein, huh? How long's that been going for?" you ask. It's been eleven months, as far as you know, but you're ready to be proved wrong. 

"It'll be a year next month. The eighteenth - it's a Friday, I think?" 

You run the numbers in your head. "Yeah, that's a Friday." There's a gap in the conversation then, an eerie silence as you taste your next words in your mouth. You might regret it, but you say them anyway. 

"Is he good to you?" 

He looks startled momentarily, but recovers. "Yeah," he sighs. "He's... he's really good to me, Sir. I-" he takes a deep breath, braces himself. "I love him, I think." 

You laugh, but softly, barely more than a slightly heavier exhale compared to your usual throaty chuckle. "I think I can tell that, Jacobi. And, well, if he ever hurts you-" 

Jacobi cuts you off with an amused snort. "Don't worry, Sir. Maxwell already gave him the shovel talk - though I imagine your's might involve more actual, y'know, _shovelling."_ He sits down on the bed next to you, and you're hyper-aware of the way the mattress dips under his weight, the heat radiating off of him. 

"Oh? What'd she threaten him with?" you ask, mirth dancing in your eyes, your voice. If he were to ask you tomorrow, you'd use the late hour as your excuse, the fact that you were tired being the sole cause of your emotional shields slipping. It would be a lie, of course, but he's never going to know your true reasons. 

"She said that she'd send all his relatives - even his ninety-two year old grandmother - his search history. There was also a threat of uploading an AI version of herself into all of his devices to 'torment him for his transgressions', but I'm fairly certain that she doesn't have the technology for that." 

"Doesn't have the technology for that, _yet,_ you say, because Maxwell is smarter than you and Jacobi put together, and you know that, if given time, she could do damn near anything she wanted. 

"God," Jacobi says, almost to himself, "She's brilliant, isn't she?" 

"Yeah, she is." You glance at the clock: it's quarter to midnight; later than you should be sleeping, on a mission. Later than You should be sleeping normally, though none of you are that good at taking care of yourselves. 

You fold down the corner of your book, and set it on the bedside table. "It's getting late," you say. "Get some sleep." 

He reaches behind you to flick off the lights. "G'night, Kepler," he says. 

You roll over onto your side, putting your back to Jacobi. "Night, Daniel." 

\--- 

One month before it happens, Jacobi comes to you on a Friday afternoon, and asks if he can leave early. 

"Me and Ja- and Klein, sorry, it's our anniversary tonight." He pauses, allowing you to say something if you want. You just nod, indicating for him to carry on. "I'm taking him on a date tonight, and I wanted to leave early to prepare." He looks nervous, as if he's certain you're going to make him stay overtime for even asking. 

"Sure," you say. 

His eyes widen almost comically with surprise. "Wait, really?" he asks. 

"Yes, Mr. Jacobi, _really._ Go enjoy your anniversary." 

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. "Uh, thanks, Sir. When can I go?" 

You look at the clock; it's about three now, and Jacobi normally leaves around six. 

_'Fuck it,'_ you think, and you say "Hell, go home now if you need to." 

He looks taken aback yet again. "Oh, uh, thanks, Sir. Have a good weekend." 

"You too, Jacobi. And happy anniversary." 

You try and swallow the lump that appears in your throat when he leaves. 

Maxwell sticks her head round the door a few minutes later, and you're still just sat at your desk, staring at the spot where you last saw Jacobi. 

"Is Dan- Jacobi still here? I wanted to talk to him," she asks, looking around the room as if she expects him to crawl out from under Kepler's desk. 

"No, sorry, Maxwell," you say. "He just left - he's got an anniversary date to prepare for, you know?" 

"Wait, he told you about him and Klein?" she asks, the shock on her face an almost perfect mirror for the expression that was on Jacobi's face a few minutes ago. 

"Yeah, last month," you say. "Though I already knew; they're not exactly the best at hiding it, are they?" 

She laughs. "No, they really aren't. Still, I'm happy for them; even if none of us _really_ deserve it." 

"Yeah," you sigh. "I'm happy for them too." 

You're not sure if your ignorance of the last thing she says is deliberate, but it doesn't really matter. 

\--- 

The night it happens, Maxwell's away, doing some conference on advanced AI shit - you don't really know what it's about, but it's not your job to. You suspect that her absence is the only reason that Jacobi chooses your shoulder to cry on, but you don't really care. It doesn't matter why he chose you. 

It's around midnight; ideally, you should be asleep, but you're tired enough to not care. (It's not like you care that much about yourself normally, anyway.) 

There's a knock at your door. You grab a handgun off of your coffee table, and go to answer it. You open the door to see Jacobi standing there, eyes red-rimmed, a bottle of vodka in hand. 

"Oh, fuck," you mutter to yourself, before putting the gun down and inviting him in. You gently prise the bottle from his hand, note the volume of empty space in it. You sit him down on the sofa, and go into the kitchen to dispose of the vodka, and grab him a glass of water. 

"Hey," you ask as you sit down opposite him and give him the water, "What happened?" 

You wait as he gulps down half of the water. "Jake, Klein, he-" A sob tears itself from his throat, interrupting his speech. "He, he left me." 

You tense up, bristling anger running through you. "Why?" you ask, because... well. Because they were happy. 

Jacobi sighs. "He's going to space. The Hermes mission, he got signed up for it, and I, I couldn't convince him to stay." His voice drops to a hoarse, broken whisper. "I couldn't convince him to stay." 

He curls up around you, buries his face in your shoulder, gentle sobs wracking his body. You don't know what to do; you want to help. God, do you want, but no. He's... heartbroken, you can't take advantage of that. You're not quite that monstrous. 

You wrap an arm round him, run your fingers through his hair. "Hey," you say, softly, for lack of any other way to fill the near-silence. 

He turns his face into your neck, presses some feather-light kisses there. You feel it more than you hear when he says "Distract me, Warren," and you are so, _so_ tempted, to take his face in your hands, and press searing kisses to his lips, to kiss away his sadness. Your breath hitches as he bites your neck, and _god,_ it would be so easy for you to have this, to have a night of meaningless contact that you would pretend as so much more, but... no. It wouldn't be right. 

You push him away. "Daniel, no. I can't. You don't want this, not really." You sigh when he nuzzles at your neck again, and push him away, more forcefully than last time. "Jacobi, you're drunk. You'd only regret this in the morning." 

"I don't care," he mumbles, sullenly. "I just... I don't want it to hurt anymore." 

A pang of longing, of desire, and guilt, and shameful, _shameful_ hope shoots through your chest, and you could _have_ this, have Daniel Jacobi, pliant and willing and responsive underneath you, your fingers tracing his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they pass over his skin, but no. You can't have this - you won't let yourself. 

"No, Jacobi. I won't do this to you." You peel him off of you, and guide him to the spare room, lay him down on the bed. "Get some sleep," you say, but Jacobi's already passed out. You put a glass of water and some aspirin on the bedside table, then go to bed yourself, eyes heavy, heart heavier.


End file.
